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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298270">PDA</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetingDesires/pseuds/FleetingDesires'>FleetingDesires</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Secret Relationship, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:01:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetingDesires/pseuds/FleetingDesires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Who will win this game of Valentine's Day oneupmanship? (Spoiler: They both do.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>PDA</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the uninitiated, PDA = Public Display(s) of Affection.</p><p>This is just very cracky, turned soft. Hope you like it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Sherlock was deep in his mind palace thinking about the variables in the decomposition rate of bodies in water when a voice rudely interrupted. "Hello… Sherlock! Have you heard anything I've said this morning?" John clicked his fingers in his face.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock blinked rapidly as he stared blankly at his friend, who sighed.</p><p class="p1">"I asked if you had any plans tonight," John repeated, returning to his chair satisfied of Sherlock's attention.</p><p class="p1">"Yes, I'm going to dinner with Mycroft." He furrowed his brows. "Why do you ask?"</p><p class="p1">"On Valentine's Day?" John exclaimed before he started to laugh. "I don't know what's worse, me not having a date at all or you having to go out with your brother."</p><p class="p1">"How was I supposed to know it was Valentine's Day? These things make no sense."</p><p class="p1">"Everybody knows, Sherlock. Well, I hope the food will be good at least. Where are you going?"</p><p class="p1">"He's taking me to Club Gascon–" Sherlock broke off, narrowing his eyes at John. "That sneaky bastard." He leapt from his seat to sit in front of his laptop. "Quick, John. What are the things you give to someone on this <em>special</em> day?"</p><p class="p1">It was John's turn to be confused. "What? Er, flowers, especially red roses, chocolate, jewellery, perfume, singing telegrams, cake…" He paused as Sherlock started typing furiously. "What are you doing?"</p><p class="p1">"Being a good Valentine's Day date." He flashed a scary smile at John.</p><p class="p1">"Oh, I see." Not really. Well, he understood the prank well enough, but not why Sherlock would want to do it. "They're called valentines. And you want to sign off as 'your secret admirer' if you want to be extra cheeky."</p><p class="p1">Sherlock gave a grunt of acknowledgement before he made a call.</p><p class="p1">"Anthea, Mycroft is going to get some deliveries from me today. Would you make sure to give them to him at the most inconvenient times? … You know he's taking me out to dinner tonight. …. Well, nobody told <em>me</em> that it was Valentine's Day until this morning. … Yes, call me if he protests. I'll take care of it. … Yup. Thanks."</p><p class="p1">Sherlock hung up the phone, remaining still for a moment as he arranged his thoughts before he got to work on his payback.</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Two hours later…</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mycroft was deep in a meeting with a few of his agents when he casually accepted a requested folder from Anthea. He opened it to see a card with a big red heart in the front, the words 'To My Valentine' emblazoned in shining gold across it. His brows shot up.</p><p class="p1">"Anthea," he called to her before she could leave the room. "I believe this is yours?" He held the card out.</p><p class="p1">"I should be so lucky, sir," she said airily before whisking herself out of the office.</p><p class="p1">Three pairs of eyes looked curiously at the card before they shot back to Mycroft. He narrowed his eyes at them, but couldn't resist opening the card. He immediately regretted it when he failed to contain his laughter.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Dear Mycroft,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p4"> </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>I may not be your first love, first kiss, first sight, or first date, but I want to be your last.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Good God, how do people come up with these things?!</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p5"> </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Your "secret" admirer</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Still chuckling, he tossed the card into a random drawer. At the look of shock on his agent's faces, he composed himself into his icy mask once again. He cocked a brow at them. "Well?"</p><p class="p1">They immediately brought their jaws back to their usual positions. After a few moments of silence, one of them had the guts to pipe up. "Yes, sir," she said, "we were waiting on you to give us more information on the Whittaker situation." She indicated the folder in his hands with her eyes, before they darted away.</p><p class="p1">Mycroft cleared his throat, feeling a blush creep up his neck. "If I hear a single word of this outside this office, I will know it was one of you." He glanced down at the file, taking in the latest updates. "As of twenty minutes ago, Mr Whittaker had…."</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">
  <em>An hour after that…</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mycroft's mind raced as he scanned rapidly through the fifteenth report this hour. Good god, how do these goldfish have enough braincells in their heads to put one foot in front of the other? He sighed as he made yet more notes in the margins, including in his digital notepad to remind himself to raise certain questions with Alicia at their meeting in… two minutes.</p><p class="p1">He took a breath as he closed off the report, closing his eyes for a moment to reset his mind. However, he opened it again as a knock sounded against his door. "Yes, come in," he said, knowing it was Anthea.</p><p class="p1">To his surprise, it wasn't the familiar face of his assistant that he first saw, but a large vase of flowers. And another. And another. And another, before she finally came into the office, directly the placement of the vases around his small office. The bright orange-red-purple of it all was a jarring addition to the otherwise stern furnishing of steel and brushed metal, its perfumes sure to permeate the room by the end of the day. He cocked an eyebrow at Anthea as one landed on his desk.</p><p class="p1">Anthea gave him her most innocent smile as the delivery men filed out of the room. Helpfully, she plucked the card from the vase and handed it to him.</p><p class="p1">"Thank you," he said drily. He rolled his eyes as he read the message.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Dear Mycroft,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p5"> </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Roses are red,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Violets are blue,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>This is really fucking stupid</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>But you booked us dinner for two.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p5"> </p>
  <p class="p3">
    <em>Your "secret" "admirer"</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">"Well, this is certainly a sight for sore eyes," Lady Smallwood's amused voice came from the doorway. Anthea and Mycroft turned to look at her. "Sorry, the door was open. May I?"</p><p class="p1">"Yes, you may as well." He waved Anthea off, pocketing the note in his inner suit pocket. "Please, have a seat."</p><p class="p1">"Thank you. From a valentine, Mycroft?" she teased, her eyes burning with curiosity.</p><p class="p1">"Maybe I decided to liven up the decor." He shot her an insincere smile.</p><p class="p1">"Ha. That'll be the day. Now, why have you summoned me?"</p><p class="p1">"Yes, it's regarding the committee meeting this afternoon. Summers is ridiculously intractable. Might we collaborate to change his stance?"</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Seventy minutes after that…</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mycroft was the first to emerge from a meeting room. After a quick glance at his phone, he lifted his eyes to see Anthea stood at the wall in front of him, a large, red, heart-shaped box in one of her hands as her other typed away on her Blackberry.</p><p class="p1">She stopped typing as she heard Mycroft groan softly, stepping towards her. He took the box from her hands, before she fished out the accompanying note from a pocket, depositing it on top of the box.</p><p class="p1">"How long have you been standing there?" He hissed as they made their way back to Mycroft's office together.</p><p class="p1">"Ten minutes, sir. Your meeting ran over time."</p><p class="p1">"I know that." It was a busy hallway, and in that time, there was no telling how many people saw her standing there. Besides, it hardly mattered. The number paled in comparison to the number that were now bearing witness to Mycroft Holmes carrying what was obviously a Valentine's Day gift. There was still a one minute, thirty-four second journey left to reach the sanctuary of his office. "Did he put you up to this?"</p><p class="p1">"Could there be any other explanation, sir?"</p><p class="p1">"Why…" Mycroft tried to reign in his exasperation. "Why, in the name of <em>God</em>, would you agree?"</p><p class="p1">"It's the day for love, sir. Are you ordering me to stop?"</p><p class="p1">He scanned the hallway, glaring somewhat ineffectually at anyone who dared to stare too long before he looked down at the gift in his hands, sighing. "Yes. I can't be seen walking around like someone has a crush on me."</p><p class="p1">"Or that you're happy about it, for that matter." Anthea stifled a grin at the glare she received. "Your secret admirer has foreshadowed your order and insists you speak with him before you give the order. Shall I connect a call for you once we are back in the office?"</p><p class="p1">Mycroft huffed. "I'll call him myself." He strode into his office, firmly shutting the door behind him. Placing the gift on his desk, he picked up the accompanying note.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Dear Mycroft,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p7"> </p>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Chocolate says "I love you" so much better than words – according to the internet.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>In your case, maybe more than the average person. </em>
  </p>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Don't eat it all at once.</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p7"> </p>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Yours</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">He smiled to himself as he opened the box to reveal a layer of chocolate pralines, popping one into his mouth before he called Sherlock.</p><p class="p1">"Hello, brother mine!" Sherlock said, glee apparent in his voice.</p><p class="p1">"Sherlock. These chocolates are delicious. Are you going to keep this up all day?"</p><p class="p1">"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I said yes, would it?"</p><p class="p1">"Why in heavens' name are you doing this?"</p><p class="p1">"Well. I felt rather remiss at not realising I was to be your Valentine, since you completely omitted to mention that when you asked me to have dinner with you tonight. Since you seem rather fond of this day, I thought you would appreciate the full experience."</p><p class="p1">"There's really no need."</p><p class="p1">"Oh, but there's every need, seeing as you won't be springing it on me again, would you?"</p><p class="p1">Mycroft sighed. "It would have made no difference to you whether or not you knew it was Valentine's Day, seeing as you don't go in for this sort of thing. Besides, I didn't know if you had deleted it or not."</p><p class="p1">"What relevance could it possibly have had for me to retain that knowledge?"</p><p class="p1">"Well…me," Mycroft replied, quietly.</p><p class="p1">He sat on the edge of his desk, as he heard the shuffling of footsteps, quickly followed by the slam of a door. Finally, Sherlock spoke again. "Why do you think I deleted it to begin with?"</p><p class="p1">"You deleted it because of me?"</p><p class="p1">Silence reigned for a moment before Sherlock replied. "Yes."</p><p class="p1">Mycroft didn't need to ask more to understand; he didn't believe in discarding knowledge, but it was for the same reason that he had always pushed the occasion to the back of his mind. After all, why would he bother to remember it when all it served was as a reminder that he couldn't have the one person he wanted most? But it was almost six months ago now that he and Sherlock had started their affair, and so, this Valentine's Day bore something to celebrate after all.</p><p class="p1">"I didn't need any of this, my dear. Having you is more than enough for me. Besides, you're ruining my reputation."</p><p class="p1">"Well, suck it up, Mycroft. I wanted to do it, and not just as payback, though it was a good excuse."</p><p class="p1">Mycroft smiled. "I get the sneaking suspicion my office is going to look like a gift shop by the end of the day."</p><p class="p1">"You could avoid it by skiving off this afternoon."</p><p class="p1">"But I'd miss out on your little passive-aggressive notes."</p><p class="p1">"Instead, you'll be missing out on finding me in your bed."</p><p class="p1">"Very tempting, brother dear, but as I think I'll find you there later tonight, I think I can just about manage the requisite level of self-control to continue the business of government."</p><p class="p1">"Not with that attitude you won't, but suit yourself. Enjoy your interruptions." Sherlock unceremoniously disconnected.</p><p class="p1">Mycroft blinked at the abruptness, but he grinned anyway. Calling Anthea on the intercom, he said, "Alright, you can keep them coming. But seeing as you're having fun at my expense, you have to do something for me. Find me the biggest bouquet of red roses and have it delivered to Baker Street, would you?"</p><p class="p1">"Sir, that's near impossible to find."</p><p class="p1">"It wouldn't be much compensation for me if it was easy to do. I have every confidence in your abilities, Anthea. Make it the largest and most ridiculous you can manage. I'll be out with a message for the card shortly."</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Thirty minutes after that…</em>
</p><p class="p1">Mycroft was walking and texting. There were some important missives to be sent before he headed off for his next appointment a building over, and he didn't need his hands to walk. He reached the lobby just as he had sent off an email, dimly registering his shoes clicking rapidly against the marble floor. A split second later, his ears pricked up as a chorus of voices started to sing. <em>Doo-wop, doo-doo-wop, doo-wop, doo-doo-wop…</em></p><p class="p1">He sought out the source of the music, finding a group of five men dressed in all-white suits with boutonnieres in their lapels walking towards him. He furrowed his brow, looking behind him even as he had the sneaking suspicion this was Sherlock's doing.</p><p class="p1">There was a small bevy of people around the public space, but as he met Anthea's eyes, he knew he was right. He didn't need her gesticulation to confirm that this spectacle was indeed for him, and he looked up to the heavens praying for patience before he turned back around to receive his singing telegram. The one who was apparently leading this charade gave a signal to the group.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I found a love for me, darling just dive right in and follow my lead. I found a boy, beautiful and sweet; I never knew you were the someone waiting for me.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">Mycroft stood rooted to the ground, his mouth opening in a silent gasp. In the moments before, he had several thoughts of what manner of embarrassment this song could bring, from the outright raunchy, to subtly sexy, or even extreme cheesiness. This probably fell under the last category, except for the fact that it didn't feel that way. Not when it evoked memories of his younger self falling in love with Sherlock, of rejecting his advances until he gave up, or of dancing with him a few years ago on John's wedding night.</p><p class="p1">Without needing to look, for he could hardly tear his eyes away from the words coming out of the singers, he tapped on his phone to call Sherlock, holding it to his ear.</p><p class="p1">As was usual, Sherlock jumped straight into the meat of the conversation. "How the hell did you manage to get red roses today, you arsehole?" he asked irately.</p><p class="p1">"Never mind that. Listen," Mycroft murmured back.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock was silent for several long moments as he listened, before he breathed, "Oh. They're early."</p><p class="p1">Mycroft's remained silent. His gaze grew unfocused, trailing to the middle distance as he dipped his head while he listened.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p1">
    <em>I found a man, stronger than anyone I know. He shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share his home. I found a love to carry more than just my secrets; to share in joy, to share burdens of our own. No longer kids but we're still in love, fighting against all odds, I know we'll be alright this time.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">As the chorus started up again, the strains of Sherlock's violin filtered through the phone, an accompaniment to the piece that only he could hear. Mycroft no longer knew or cared what the hell his face was doing, or who was watching the Iceman's reputation being torn to shreds as he was serenaded in the lobby. All he knew, as he gripped his phone tightly, was that he needed the song to end so that he could move from this spot.</p><p class="p1">Mercifully, the serenade ended soon after, and Mycroft nodded his gratitude to them as he motioned for them to wait. He heard Sherlock pick up his phone again. "Mycroft?"</p><p class="p1">"Yes, I'm still here. Where are you?"</p><p class="p1">"Baker Street."</p><p class="p1">"Stay there." Mycroft hung up, gesturing to Anthea before redirecting his attention to the singers."Thank you. My assistant will provide you with your tips. Anthea, would you please find out from these gentlemen what an adequate recompense would be? And cancel the rest of my afternoon. I have to go."</p><p class="p1">"Very well, sir," Anthea responded with a soft smile. "I'll have your car brought around. Gentlemen, if you'll follow me."</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">Mycroft fidgeted in the backseat of his car the entire way to Baker Street. He had nothing else with him – no umbrella, no briefcase, nothing but the phone in his pocket, which he was too distracted to use. He stared out the window as he resisted the urge to bite his nails, clasping his fingers tightly together.</p><p class="p1">He was so single-mindedly focused on getting to Sherlock that he didn't even bother with the charade of knocking on the door, simply using his key before he took the seventeen steps to his brother's flat two at a time. Sherlock's front door swung open as he reached the top step, revealing the man himself stood almost timidly next to it.</p><p class="p1">"A <em>song</em>, brother mine?" He closed the expanse of landing between them to clasp Sherlock's face between his hands, dipping his head to kiss him hard, ignoring the clicking of their teeth. He pushed Sherlock into the flat with the force of his kiss, kicking the door shut behind him before he gentled to tease, flicking his tongue against his and slowly licking into his mouth. Finally, he drew away, pausing with a small gap between their lips.</p><p class="p1">They shared breaths for several long moments, Sherlock's dazed eyes slowly coming to focus on Mycroft.</p><p class="p1">"Did you mean it?" Mycroft whispered. One of his hands crept into Sherlock's hair, softly massaging his scalp.</p><p class="p1">"Obviously. I'm not so cruel as to choose something like that if I didn't mean it."</p><p class="p1">"Then, please, I'd like to hear it from you. Not some man I'd never seen in my life."</p><p class="p1">A corner of Sherlock's lips twitched up, before he held Mycroft closer to him, pressing their bodies together. He paused before he moved his lips to Mycroft's ear; he didn't think he could bear to have Mycroft look at him as he said these words.</p><p class="p1">"I love you, Mycroft. I always have." He tucked his head into the space between Mycroft's neck and shoulder, shielding his blazing face even though there was nobody else in the room to witness it.</p><p class="p1">"Oh, Sherlock," he murmured, holding him tight as he ran a hand across his back. He twisted his head to breathe Sherlock in, committing everything about this moment to memory. With those words he had summarily erased years upon decades of animosity, betrayal, and deception, leaving behind only a sense of deep affection in its wake.</p><p class="p1">"My dear, why are you hiding your face?" Mycroft nudged him back so he could see him again. "You have never been bashful in your life."</p><p class="p1">"It is easier to be sentimental if you aren't looking," Sherlock groused.</p><p class="p1">Mycroft chuckled, pressing a kiss to his forehead before seeking his gaze. "Well, I face no such obstacle. I love you too, my Sherlock. But you already know this."</p><p class="p1">Sherlock pulls him down for another kiss, relief and joy flooding his veins. "Yes," he murmured between kisses. "And how lucky I am for it."</p><p class="p1">They continued to kiss softly, tongues lazily intertwining as Sherlock walked Mycroft into his bedroom. The desire between them was no less ardent for its trickling nature, lighting up their bodies in gradual degrees until it was hard to remember precisely how they had found themselves tangled up naked in Sherlock's bed, Sherlock hovering over Mycroft as he took him slowly, wondrously. </p><p class="p1">Mycroft ran his hands reverently across Sherlock's skin, even as he arched in pleasure with each stroke of Sherlock's hips, reduced to gasps as Sherlock rocked against his prostate until he came.</p><p class="p1">Sherlock groaned at the exquisite squeeze of Mycroft around him, driving hard into him as he chased his own orgasm. "God, it's stupid how much I love you. Love this," he panted. "I love you," he declared again as he buried himself in Mycroft, coming deep within him.</p><p class="p2">❤️ ❤️ ❤️</p><p class="p1">Later that afternoon, John ascended the stairs to Baker Street again, with the full intention of finding out how Sherlock turns out in a tux, and continue to tease him about going out on Valentine's Day with his brother.</p><p class="p1">Entering the apartment, he stopped short when he spotted a huge vase of roses on the table, his jaw hanging open. Looking around, he realised that there was complete silence. Sherlock's bedroom door is open as usual and the apartment is empty.</p><p class="p1">He sighed in disappointment at a wasted opportunity, but quickly refocused his attention on the bouquet. John spun it around, before realising that the accompanying card was wedged in a corner by the vase.</p><p class="p1">Grinning, and not at all apologetic, he picked it up to read it.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Dearest Sherlock,</em>
  </p>
  <p class="p6">
    <em>Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p class="p1">A range of conflicting emotions sped through him at once, beginning with disappointment that it wasn't signed, swiftly followed by bemusement at who on God's green earth would be sending Sherlock roses and calling him 'dearest' or 'sweet' (for Sherlock was anything but a sweet dear, unless one was being sarcastic), and finally with a mild sort of bafflement as to why he was going to dinner with Mycroft when he was… what, attached? Coupled up? Romantically occupied?</p><p class="p1">John rolled his eyes as he put down the note, going instead to make himself a cup of tea. He resolved to ask Sherlock about it tomorrow, and maybe he'd do whoever this person was a favour by educating Sherlock on the finer ways of love. After all, he wasn't called Three Continents Watson for nothing.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p4"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have been eating so much chocolate since writing this. </p><p><span class="u">Attributions:</span><br/>1. The song is adapted from Perfect by Ed Sheeran.<br/>2. Mycroft's note comes from Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II, from which came the famous line: "That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet." I think cheesy-adjacent is the most Mycroft would be able to bring himself to write.</p><p>You can find me on Tumblr <a href="http://fleetingdesires.tumblr.com">here!</a></p><p>As always, hit that kudos or comment and let me know if you liked it! Till next time xxx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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